Sinking Ship
by Strawberriesaresexy
Summary: A JeanMarco Titanic AU


Disclaimer: I do not own SnK or Titanic, obvi.

A/N: I saw this idea floating around on Tumblr and no one could point me in the direction of one that was already written so I started it. If it seems to please the fandom, then I will continue it until it is finished. Please R&R if you have the time because I love when people do that.

Christa sat in her grandfather's living room. While she enjoyed visiting her grandfather, she had to admit that she was checking up on him more than anything. Her grandfather often tried to do things on his own that he was simply too old for now and Christa couldn't rest knowing that somewhere an elderly old man who had raised her and her mother was doing labor. She often pleaded with her mother to come visit more often, but she had insisted that exploring the wreckage of old ships was simply too pressing and too amusing to abandon.

It wasn't a burden to her anyway. She enjoyed her grandfather's kind disposition. Most days when she came over she would move his chair into the sun. There, he would sit, his eyes closed and the most contented smile playing on his lips. On the odd occasion he would say something cryptic like, "I knew a man once who was as warm as sunshine."

"What happened to him?" Christa would ask.

Her grandfather would open his eyes almost as if he had forgotten he wasn't alone and needed to see Christa again. "He went away. Somewhere better, but I'm sure I'll see him again very soon." Then he would close his eyes again. This gave Christa chills because she was smart enough to know that most of her Grandpa Marco's friends were likely dead. She didn't like the idea of him joining them.

On this day in particular, her grandfather was feeling rather talkative. They sat out in his garden sipping the tea that Christa had made. "It wouldn't kill your mother to call." Marco huffed.

Christa giggled at how young her grandfather still acted. "She's very busy, she says. She didn't say much about it. She said she was going to explore an old sunken ship to look for a diamond that a king used to wear. The Titanic, I think is the name of the ship."

"The Titanic?" Marco looked up in new interest.

Christa quirked her head in confusion. "Grandpa?"

He took a long sip of his tea. "Christa, would you like to hear a story? I told it to your mother once."

Christa nodded her head eagerly.

"Alright then. Back in my youth…"

* * *

In Marco's youth the year was 1912 and his mother was making a desperate attempt to do anything to stay at the top of the social ladder. Marco was of the personal opinion that perhaps if his mother lost some of her wealth and social standing then she could focus on what was really important. She wasn't ready to let this happen though.

Thus she had set Marco up with Annie Leonhart, a wealthy young woman from a family of significant social standing. She then threatened Marco until he proposed to Annie. So it was that Marco had begrudgingly proposed to Annie. Annie agreed and they made immediate plans to travel to New York where they would be married.

Marco looked up at the Titanic. It was overwhelming. The passengers in well tailored suits and dresses, large hats and expensive jewelry filed onto the ship in pairs. This was everything his mother had ever wanted. A small world of high society that she could micromanage. Marco saw it as a prison ship filled to the brim with people so dull they inspired him to smash his head against a wall. But the agony wouldn't stop when he reached the end of his voyage with the Titanic. At the end of the voyage was an aisle. At the end of an aisle was a sealed fate. Marco felt as if he might hyperventilate as he walked on the ship.

It wasn't that Annie was so horrible. For other men, Annie would have been ideal. She was quiet, well mannered, and beautiful. Marco always admired her cool dignity as she walked flawlessly in high heels, her head up, her eyes meeting any man that did not wilt in her presence. Hers was the kind of confidence that could only come from truly believing herself to be stronger and better than everyone else. That was also the problem. Her superior attitude led her to survey everything with a cold detachment. While Marco wanted to whimsical, to live in the moment, to find beauty and happiness in the world, she had this drive to become stronger and survive. He wondered if she even liked him. He was certain of one thing, living with her meant living a lie. He could never find happiness in that.

Jean couldn't have viewed this trip any differently. Jean thought himself a criminally underrated artist, but in New York, he was going to make it. It was the kind of city where anything could happen and he wanted everything to happen. The Titanic was only half as big as his dreams.

Jean grinned as he and Connie ran toward the ship. "I'm telling you man, winning that poker game was the best thing that ever happened to us. New York here we come!"

"Promise not to forget me when you're a famous artist?" Connie asked in mock innocence.

Jean gave him a shove as they reached their place on the deck of the ship. "Shut up." Leaning back on the railing to catch his breath, Jean saw the upper deck of the boat, more interesting to him was Marco looking out over the sea from the upper deck. Jean was instantly entranced with the way Marco's features fell into this look of complete contentment, the way his chocolate eyes looks sweet and warm even from this distant. Marco turned, making eye contact with Jean. Jean just smiled and waved. He stifled a laugh when Marco blushed and gave a halfhearted wave in return.

Connie followed Jean's line of vision. When his eyes landed on Marco, who had returned to looking out at the sea, he shook his head. "He is way out of your league."

"We'll see about that." Jean countered. He didn't take his eyes off Marco as the ship began its maiden voyage.


End file.
